


Clear Vision

by Daegaer



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Blindness, Disability, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Male Friendship, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-30
Updated: 2009-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4750460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crawford knows he should be grateful that Nagi looks after him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clear Vision

"Come in," Crawford called before Nagi could even touch the door. He could tell from the sharp rhythm of Nagi's footsteps that he was more annoyed by that than usual. Now, he thought, Nagi would say – 

"I've brought your dinner."

The sound of the plate being set down on the table was followed by the hiss of a can of beer being opened. Nagi allowed him one beer with his dinner, not poured into a glass because it was, apparently, more _efficient_ to throw a can out than do more washing up. Crawford suspected Nagi thought he'd spill a glass. He tried not to be resentful about that. Now, he just stood up from the chair where he'd been sitting and walked without hesitation to the table.

"Thank you," he said. Now Nagi would – he frowned. Nagi would sit with him. That was unusual.

Nagi took a few steps away and then came back, pulling out the other chair at the table and sitting.

"Don't let that get cold," he said.

He said nothing else, so Crawford picked up his knife and fork, and ate. The food was on a strict schedule, so he knew what he'd find. Today it was pork chops, with mashed potatoes, carrots and applesauce. The meat would be overdone, which he knew not from his foresight but because it was always overdone. Nagi's talents did not extend to cooking; the food was better on the nights Nagi had deemed suitable for pizza or deliveries from the nearby Chinese restaurant. Crawford ate without complaint, as he always did, feeling obscurely touched that Nagi should try to cook at all.

Nagi was going to say –

"Maybe we can go out after you've eaten. You need exercise."

"If you have nothing else you need to do. A walk down to the park?" Crawford said, seeing the two of them walking under the dark shapes of trees.

"Yeah," Nagi said, and fell silent. He took the plate away when Crawford had finished, and came back with quieter, calmer footsteps. Crawford didn't flinch when he felt a light touch on his head.

"I suppose you can't be blamed for not brushing your hair," Nagi grumbled, and brushed it for him. He straightened Crawford's tie and handed him his coat. "It's chilly tonight."

_I'm not a child_ , Crawford thought, but didn't say. Nagi was doing his best, and wasn't the sort of person to play meaningless tricks. Schuldig would have delighted in replacing all of Crawford's ties with garish novelty prints. He walked without help to the elevator, knowing by the number of steps and his foresight when he should stop or risk walking into the wall. Nagi was about to give him – oh, God, he thought, Nagi had brought the cane. He held out his hand and Nagi closed his finger round it.

"I don't need to advertise my status," he said. Quietly. Not resentfully. 

"Humour me. Just in case you don't foresee a big, friendly dog or something, and the owner decides to cause a scene when you start shooting wildly all around you."

"Fine." He shoved his glasses up his nose, a meaningless, reflexive movement. "I wouldn't shoot wildly."

"No doubt."

It was cold out, but a more welcome relief than Crawford had realised, after a day cooped up in the apartment. The park wasn't far, and the feel of grass under his shoes was pleasant. He stood still, balancing easily as a large dog rushed past and came back to sniff him before running away again. Crawford laughed a little to think Nagi's prediction had been partially fulfilled.

"No wild shooting," he said, facing the way the dog had run. It was a dark shade, he thought, the split-second of his vision still fresh in his mind. He wanted all of a sudden to know what colour it was – black? Brown? It was a stupid thing to want to know, and would probably worry Nagi. The visions were sharper than ever; it was overly-emotional to wish they came in colour. "What was it you wanted to tell me?" he said.

"Nothing much," Nagi said. "I've been thinking we should move apartments. Maybe we should rent a house – if we go out to the suburbs I could find a house with a garden. I thought you might like that."

Nagi was doing his best, Crawford reminded himself. If he was over-protective and acted like Crawford was a child, that was no doubt a recognised psychological reaction to be expected in someone so young who'd had their own family and childhood ripped away. He saw himself, sitting patiently in a garden as he now sat patiently in his room.

"You're telling me Schuldig isn't coming back," he said. 

"What? No."

"It's all right, Nagi. You don't have to sweeten it – I don't blame him. I'm sure I'd do the same in his shoes." He would, he thought. He'd run far and long, casting off such a burden.

"He'll come back. When he's made enough money to cover the surgery and the convalescence – "

"Nagi. My visions have been getting stronger. Not one of them shows Schuldig returning."

Nagi was going to walk off in disgust. He did, but came back fast as if he wanted the final word.

"Crawford," Nagi said, and his voice told Crawford the embarrassing detail the vision hadn't shown. "Brad," Nagi said, getting his voice back under control, "Schuldig'll be back. If you haven't seen it, it's just because your visions don't show you that far in the future. He'll be back, he'll have found someone who can fix you, and then we'll decide what to do next. He'll come back."

Crawford felt the pain in his head start up again. He should be glad he'd had enough time to move so he'd only received a glancing blow as the Eszett tower collapsed, he thought. He should be glad Nagi stayed with him, cooking his meals to a crisp and making him look presentable. He should be glad he had never foreseen pursuit, either for them or for Schuldig or Farfarello. He nodded briskly, as if Nagi had persuaded him.

He really wished he could see.


End file.
